What She Wanted
by 4JACE
Summary: Brennan makes a decision. BB.


Hi all...this is my first _Bones_ fic, hope you enjoy. I actually got this idea from reading several other fanfics, but I hope mine is sufficiently different enough that I've made it my own. If anyone believes otherwise, please let me know and I'll give credit where it is due. This is a one-shot Booth/Brennan piece that could take place at any point in the series.

Disclaimer: In an alternate realityI'm a self-employed, multi-millionaire philanthropist who owns_Bones_. And Microsoft. However, in this reality _Bones_ and all the characters therein are owned by Josephson Entertainment, Far Field Productions, and 20th Century Fox. I am extremely grateful for the chance to entertain my imagination with these wonderful characters.

B/B

What was it she wanted? Tempe asked herself this for at least the tenth time since making her decision. Actually, the logical part of her mind insisted on pointing out that this was the thirteenth time the question had been asked, including five times last night during her carefully prepared introspection and seven times this morning. She had been just as careful this morning; paying every attention to food, dress, and cosmetics. Having decided on her next step, she was determined to do it well. There was a way to do this (there was a way to do everything, as far as she was concerned), and she would give it no less than her best. She had accepted her conclusion and was prepared, so why, as she drove to Booth's house, was she asking herself this question for the thirteenth time?

It occurred to her quite suddenly that there was a negative connotation associated with the number thirteen; many people considered it to be unlucky. She immediately tightened her jaw, irritated with herself for giving even a moment's consideration to something so obviously illogical. It was so...random. Chaotic, disorganized...emotional. Again her jaw ticked as she acknowledged that she could not hope to avoid an emotional response to this situation. Emotion was the cause of the problem, after all. And there were examples of superstitions throughout the years...the ancient Chaldeans had believed that an eclipse would be followed by famine or disease, for example. Eclipses had been associated, at least anecdotally, with altered behavior in both humans and animals, so it was remotely possible...

She shook her head, frustrated. She knew it was nonsense, but she couldn't help asking one more time, just to rid even the slightest chance of an unfortunate number tainting what was to come:

_What was it she wanted?_

Then she closed her mind to further speculation and concentrated on driving until her car pulled up in Booth's driveway. She took a moment to inspect her appearance in the mirror...there _was _a correct way to do this...before taking a deep breath and stepping from the car. Walking without hesitation to his door, she knocked firmly.

He answered, not that it surprised her. She had taken discreet steps to discover his schedule for the week and had planned her analysis to coincide with his availability. She'd wanted time to think things through sufficiently, and she'd preferred a weekend morning for any necessary discussion so that they would have a chance to talk. She'd considered mornings better for communication, as they would both be rested and ready to face the challenges of the day. She had slept quite well the night before, despite having reached what could be a life-altering decision. She was rather proud of her logical approach to this issue: having determined what needed to occur, she had gone about her evening routine in a completely practical manner. She had to think that boded well for the future of this situation...if, indeed, the situation had a future.

She refused to follow that line of reasoning. The outcome, whatever it might be, would be determined soon enough. She'd done what she'd needed to do: she'd formed a theory from observations, collected additional data, analyzed the data, and reached the only possible conclusion. Regardless of the audience's reaction, the conclusion stood. She was confident, prepared, and self-assured...

...until she noticed that he had answered the door wearing only a pair of pajama pants. Immediately her mouth began to water, her heartbeat increased, and all logical thought left her mind faster than Zach could derive the Quadratic Formula. How could anyone look _that _good right after getting out of bed? Because he had quite obviously left his bed to answer the door: his hair was tousled, he was unshaven, his eyes were still shadowed from sleep...quickly Tempe realized that she needed to stop her inventory if she wanted to have any chance of presenting her case in a rational manner. That was what she wanted, wasn't it? To present the data and the obvious conclusion in a respectable, organized manner and allow him the opportunity to respond in a similar fashion? Studying the golden warmth of his chest, she was no longer sure.

"Bones?" His voice startled her, drawing her eyes away from that _magnificent _chest to his face, where she focused with equally poor judgement on the fullness of his mouth. Really, how was she supposed to concentrate when his lips still looked flushed from sleep and his voice carried the deep timbre of early morning? Perhaps she should go away and let him get dressed; her presentation could wait until later in the day.

He didn't give her the chance to escape. Apparently concerned about her continued silence, he placed his hand against the small of her back and gently ushered her into his home. "Bones? Is everything okay?"

She didn't mind her nickname anymore; in fact, she'd grown secretly fond of it, pleased and privately delighted that he...and only he...had a special name that was just for her. Today, however..."My name is Temperance," she said softly.

Her response seem to cause him even more concern; eyes narrowed, he studied her face. He had been leading her to the living room but stopped just inside the room's entrance, turning her to face him. "Temperance, what's wrong?"

Nothing was calm, rational, or made sense. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I just wanted...Booth...Seeley...I came over to tell you..." Angry, she closed her eyes and took a calming breath, willing discipline to return. _You had a plan, Brennan. Tell him, just like you rehearsed._ Opening her eyes, she met his worried gaze and prepared to tell him what he needed to know...what she _needed _to say with a desperation that grew with every breath. It hadn't been so pressing earlier this week; she'd planned this meeting and then set it aside for two whole days while she worked on a project. When had this discussion become so urgent? When had telling him become more important than livinganother moment? And then she brushed the questions away as irrelevent and delivered the truth that her heart had defined.

Her voice was quiet but sure. "I'd begun noticing things...little things from our first days together, and larger ones as we progressed. When I realized what was needed, I compiled the data and set aside time to analyze it. I thought it through last night. Everything was considered: conversations, likes, dislikes, beliefs, things we have in common, areas of disagreement, ethics, hopes, emotions. I gave ample thought to each item and studied it all until I reached a conclusion."

Comprehension dawned; his gaze did not waver from hers. "And?"

_Here we are_. "I love you. And you love me."

Tempe had thought she was prepared to handle this discussion, regardless of the outcome. In the silence following her announcement, she realized that she had been very, very wrong. She forced herself to continue looking at him, but his FBI-trained eyes revealed nothing. As she waited with anxious hope for his response, the scientist deserted her post, leaving a trembling, fragile woman in her stead. This was what Seeley Booth did to her, and she both loved and hated him for it.

_Answer me, Seeley. I know I did this wrong...I know people don't do this the way I have, but it's the only way I can, and if anybody can understand, it's you. I love you, and I truly believe you love me, and please, please, please don't hurt me. I'm a woman with you, in a way that I am with no one else, and it matters so very much. Please, please..._

When he moved, it was with singular purpose. He reached out to slide his hand around the back of her neck, his expression dark with predatory intent. If possible, his intesity increased as he leaned toward her, his every action declaring possession. Somewhere in the overwhelmed circuitry of her mind, the scientist analyzed data and reached a shocked conclusion: _He's staking his claim._ And then his mouth was on hers, and the heat of his breath stole the air from her lungs, and she forgot everything that she had been and was and would ever be.

He kissed her until he was sure, and then he lifted his face long enough to gaze into her eyes. His smile was a warm, intimate caress that was for her alone. Running a gentle finger along her cheek, he murmured huskily, "I know." Then he began to kiss her again, and this time he didn't stop.

She had found exactly what she wanted.

END


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